


Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

by fictionallemons



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: After Mission Impossible Fallout, Ethan's POV, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mission Impossible: Fallout - Freeform, Movie: Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation, One Shot, Pining, fallout spoilers, sad wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:29:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15735903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionallemons/pseuds/fictionallemons
Summary: Spoilers for Mission Impossible: Fallout. This fic covers stuff that happens in Rogue Nation, too. A little Ethan pining over Benji, but always a happy ending for these two!





	Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

He could have said something after the night at the opera, when Benji had been shockingly obstinate, endearingly loyal, unexpectedly hot in his tux. But he hadn’t known how to put the feelings he was starting to have into words.

He would have said something after being zapped back to life in Morocco, when Benji’s face had been the first, the only thing, he wanted to see after almost losing his life to save Benji’s (always, anytime). But he barely had control of his motor skills, let alone been able to formulate the words, or the actions, that would have made it clear how very, very important Benji was to him.

He should have said something after London, when seeing Benji so vulnerable, so very much at the mercy of a monster had torn his self-control to shreds. But after London, Benji was so very…Benji. Light and joking and Ethan told himself he’d imagined the anguish, the emotion that had been in Benji’s eyes that night. He’d imagined that underneath the understandable fear of the situation, there’d been something else, something Benji had been trying to tell him, something he hadn’t been able to say to Ethan either.

So he hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t done anything. He’d thought that by ignoring it, his feelings, those awful, complicated, wonderful feelings he’d barely hoped to have again for someone, would go away.

But some things really are impossible. And Ethan Hunt being able to stop loving Benji Dunn was one of them.

*

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” The words were simple, the sentiment as natural to Ethan as breathing. Or moreso, considering his ability to live without oxygen for minutes at a time.

He said “I won’t let anything happen to you,” and he meant, you’re too important to me to lose, because you are my heart, part of my body, and if I lost you, I’d cease to exist in my entirety. Part of me would die with you.

Late at night, between missions, when there were a brief, terrible respites from the business of saving the world, Ethan would sometimes allow himself to think about that. About how Benji had slowly but surely worked his way into Ethan’s heart, his mind, his blood, about how it might feel if the person who had so thoroughly invaded his consciousness actually, physically, invaded his body.

He’d lie alone in his narrow bed, desperately using all of his considerable self control to not touch himself, while imagining Benji’s body against his own, imagining the scrape of his beard against Ethan’s bare chest, his clever hacker’s fingers sliding with ease over Ethan’s skin, figuring him out, unlocking his mysteries. He always failed the test he set for himself, always ultimately gave in, stroking himself, thinking of Benji’s eye crinkles and kindness and mouth and he’d come imagining Benji whispering Ethan’s name in the dark.

It never felt wrong, exactly, but Ethan always felt a bit more alone when he was finished, a bit farther from ever making the impossible dream of having Benji in all the ways he wanted him, of being to Benji more than a coworker, or friend.

*

It was cold. Everything hurt. He was probably hallucinating the chopper noises that seemed to be coming from the west.

They’d saved the world. But Ethan couldn’t help feeling that cold deep within—what if he hadn’t been there to save Benji? What if he wasn’t there when Ethan made it back? What if Ethan didn’t make it back?

Ethan raised his head enough to see the rescue chopper rise into his field of vision. He’d done the impossible, but it still wasn’t enough.

*

The relief that Benji had survived was a better painkiller than anything else the doctors were pumping into his system. But it wasn’t until talking with Julia that Ethan understood what had been holding him back all these years. He’d told himself that Benji didn’t see him like that, that their working relationship was too important to jeopardize, that the fate of the world could literally rest on him never telling Benji how he felt.

But those were all excuses.

Ethan had been afraid of losing his heart, of losing himself. But Julia was right; he was exactly where he was supposed to be. And Benji was next to him. He’d already lost his heart. He wanted to see if by asking for what he wanted, he’d be able to share it with the person who he’d already given it to.

He was Ethan Hunt, damn it. He didn’t believe in coulda, woulda, shoulda. He believed in doing what was necessary to protect the world and the people he loved. He believed in doing whatever it took. He refused to be on the edge of a cliff again, wondering “what if?”

*

While the CIA did the necessary cleanup, and Ilsa went back to square things with MI-6, Luther and Benji stayed close to Ethan, several days at the medical camp until he was stable enough to transport back stateside.

Ethan bristled with impatience. He wanted to be well. He wanted to be whole. Time would heal him. Only finally telling Benji how he felt would make him whole. And there never seemed to be a moment, between the doctors, and Luther’s hovering, and Benji’s own medical treatment. Ethan had heard in bits and pieces what had happened between Lane and Benji and his skin itched with a million difference impulses, to soothe and comfort Benji, to exact revenge on Lane, to go back in time and be better, do better, so none of this happened in the first place.

Finally, finally, Luther had been given the go-ahead to take some personal time and recuperate from the mission. Benji had been given medical clearance to travel. Ethan was stable and would finish his convalescence at home, though his sterile D.C. apartment held no welcome for him.

He was wrestling with himself—he wanted to be better when he told Benji, but he didn’t want to waste any more time—when the man himself knocked on the door of his makeshift hospital room.

“Hey,” Ethan said, unable to force enough air into his lungs for a longer greeting. Benji looked better, he’d shaved in the last day or so, and he no longer had the waxy, yellowing pallor he’d had directly after the confrontation with Lane. But the ugly bruises peeking out the collar of his shirt would take much longer to fade away.

“Hey. Wanted to check on you before my transport leaves,” Benji said.

“You’re leaving?”

“Helicopter to military jet. I’ll be home in twenty hours, more or less.”

“Good, that’s—actually, I was wondering if you’d—stay? With me? I heard they’re not springing me until tomorrow night.”

Benji barely hesitated before saying, “Of course. Yeah. I’ll just tell them.” He moved to back out of the room, but Ethan held up a hand.

“Wait. In a minute, okay?”

Benji stopped, nodded.

“There are things—things I need to say, need to tell you. And you might not want to stay after you hear them, so just—wait.”  


“Oh.” Benji swallowed. “You’re scaring me a bit, mate.”

Ethan took as deep a breath as he was able, let it out through his nose. He allowed his gaze to rake over Benji from head to foot, just in case it was the last time he’d see him like this. His hair was messy, a little too long, his eyes clear and beautiful as ever. He wore borrowed clothes, a bit baggy on him, but Ethan knew the body underneath was able and lithe. Stronger than he looked.

“Um. I need to tell you that I’m sorry about Lane. About what he did to you. I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to protect you—“

“Do not apologize.” Benji’s voice held a thread of steel and Ethan fell in love with him a little bit more, if that was possible. “We all did what we had to do. We all made it. And it’s not your fault, Ethan. Never think that. Ever.”

Ethan looked at Benji, so proud and brave and certain. “Okay.” He smiled a little and Benji relaxed at that, smiled back.

“There’s something else. I—“ Ethan cleared his throat. “I’m not even exactly sure how to say it, but I have to, I have to, even if it ruins everything. Um—you’re probably going to think this is crazy, but it’s not, because I’ve thought about this a lot. Yeah. A lot.” He cleared his throat again. Yeah, this wasn’t going well. He glanced at Benji’s face, which was unreadable through Ethan’s fog of nerves. “And well, I have, I mean, I feel, that, uh, I—“ damn it. Words weren’t always Ethan’s forte. He liked action. Maybe he should just do something. He started to get up, before he remembered he was connected to about a half dozen different tubes and wires.

“Jesus, Ethan, don’t get up, you loon,” Benji said, coming closer to the bed. He put a steadying hand on Ethan’s shoulder and that point of contact steadied Ethan in more ways than one. He reached up, covered Benji’s hand with his own.

“Sorry, I forgot, I—“ He looked up, his gaze locking with Benji’s. Ethan’s tongue darted out to coat his bottom lip. He tracked Benji’s gaze as it shifted to Ethan’s mouth, then slid back up his face. Suddenly, Ethan felt warm for the first time in days. He tightened his grip on Benji’s hand and Benji almost imperceptibly swayed toward him.

No one said anything for a long moment, and then Benji said, his voice cracking a little, “So what, uh, were you going to say?”

“Yeah, that.” Ethan took a breath, and then took the most daring leap of his life. “I like you, Benji. Actually, I love you. I want you. I think you already know I need you. And I couldn’t bear you not knowing anymore, even if you never feel the same way, it’s okay. I just needed you to—“ Ethan was cut off by lips pressing against his. Benji’s lips. Benji’s slightly bristly face, his warm breath tasting of strong local coffee.

“I need you, too,” Benji said when they broke apart. “I love you. I even like you.” Benji smiled, kissed him again, like it was becoming a habit. “I definitely want you, you loon.”

Ethan couldn’t help the happy laugh bubbling out of him. He’d taken the leap and Benji had caught him. Just like it was supposed to be.


End file.
